


Four Times Arthur was Kicked in the Shin (once he was bitten)

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-05
Updated: 2010-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Knee guards. I keep saying, knee guards."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Arthur was Kicked in the Shin (once he was bitten)

1.

Arthur Pendragon was eight years old and bored. His father was shut up with the council talking about things that Arthur was supposedly too young to hear about, all the other boys his age had duties and Morgana was still crying about her dead father. Not that it wasn't sad, but she'd been sobbing for weeks now, how much crying could one fairly small girl do?

Luckily, Camelot town had an almost never-ending supply of smaller children for him to torment, and Arthur was poking a boy a year or so younger than himself with a stick to get him to pretend to be a dog.

“What are you doing, you horrible boy?” came a small, high pitched voice. Arthur turned round to see a dark skinned girl with soot smudged across one cheek. She immediately kicked him in the shin, and Arthur's plaything took the opportunity to make his escape.

“Ow!” yelped Arthur. He thought about the stick in his hand, and immediately dropped it; only bandits, thugs and bad boys hit girls.

“What's your name?” he asked instead. He'd tell Morgana, she was a girl, she was allowed to hit other girls.

I'm not telling.”

“Guinevere!” the shout came from Tom the blacksmith, who was running towards Arthur and the soot streaked girl. Arthur liked Tom the blacksmith, he made swords for the knights, and it wasn't his fault he had a beastly daughter. “Gwen, you apologise to Prince Arthur this instant.”

The soot streaked girl, Gwen apparently, scuffed her shoe in the dirt and muttered, “Sorry, my lord.”

Arthur drew himself up to his full height, about three inches shorter than Gwen, and nodded in what he imagined was a regal fashion.

Gwen's father led her away, halfway to the end of the street the girl turned her head and stuck her tongue out at the prince. Arthur grinned, and stuck his tongue out right back.

  
2.

Arthur agreed with his father that Morgana had no place learning swordcraft - anyone who wondered which pair of earrings went best with a particular sword had no business handling a weapon - but he'd agreed to keep practising with her anyway. Partly because she'd threatened to start a rumour that he wore women's dresses when he was alone in his chambers (a scurrilous lie, everyone knew that was Sir Lionel) and partly because he knew no-one who needed to get out of the castle and into the fresh air quite so much as Morgana.

Arthur was wearing his armour, Morgana was wearing hers; which as far as Arthur could tell consisted of some larger than usual items of jewellery.

“This,” Arthur was explaining in the tone of voice he usually reserved for dogs and knights who'd taken one too many blows to the head, “is called armour. And the reason we wear armour is so that if your opponent lands a blow then that blow is not incapacitating, are you following me?”

Morgana nodded, smiled benevolently and lashed out with her foot. She was wearing those pointy-toed boots that women wear when they want to frighten men, and she caught him just under the kneecap. She smiled again, picked up her sword and strode off.

Guinevere shot him a look that managed to say “I hope you're not hurt, sire” while also saying “Seriously, you didn't see that coming?” 

It was a gift Morgana's maidservant had.

“Merlin,” Arthur demanded.

His manservant strolled over, looking for all the world as though seeing Arthur kicked by a girl had been the highlight of his week.

“Yes, Arthur.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“Knee guards,” said Merlin, slinging Arthur's arm over his shoulder. “I keep saying, knee guards.”

  
3.

One week after his coronation and Arthur was asleep dreaming of kingly things; uniting Albion, liberating the oppressed, commissioning silly hats for Merlin to wear, that sort of thing...

He was awoken from this sleep of the righteous by Merlin, who tripped over the hem of the long robe Arthur had insisted he wear as Court Sorcerer, crashed into what sounded like every item of furniture in Arthur's chambers and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Don't get up!”

“What are you shouting about now, Merlin?” said Arthur, thinking, in a noble and kingly fashion, that his sorcerer was an idiot.

“Pixies. Stay in--”

Arthur threw the covers back, swung his legs out of bed and promptly shrieked like a girl.

“Pixies,” said Merlin, nodding sagely. “They bite.”

  
4.

Merlin approached Arthur wearing the nervous, slightly constipated look of a male about to initiate a conversation about feelings.

“So,” he began, and after a long pause continued, “Lancelot's back. That must be complicated. With you, and Gwen and... and Lancelot.”

“Well, it is a bit,” Arthur admitted. “Guinevere won't sleep in the middle because she says it gets too warm. I think it's an excuse not to sleep next to Lancelot, he kicks in his sleep, you know. He caught me right in the shin last night. I think I'm going to bruise.”

“I meant emotionally complicated,” said Merlin, at which point Arthur gave him such a look of scorn that he said, “Never mind. I'll just be off and do some magic, shall I?”

“Don't set the north tower on fire, not again.”

  
5.

“Arthur,” said the voice.

Arthur ignored the voice in the hope that it would go away.

“Arthur,” the voice repeated, more insistently.

“Mmmmpppphhhlllffffffff,” said Arthur, which is Sleepy Person for “Bugger off.”

“Wake up, you prat,” said the voice.

“Go away. Sleeping.”

The voice, which apparently had legs, kicked Arthur in the shin. Arthur opened his eyes, in addition to legs, the voice had teeth, big blue eyes and ears. Lots and lots of ears.

“'Lo, Merlin.”

“Listen,” said Merlin, looking shiftily over one shoulder, “I've spent the last thousand years telling people that you're going to arise when you are most needed--”

“And that's now, is it?”

“Er,” another nervous look over Merlin's shoulder, “massive zombie apocalypse sound about right to you?”


End file.
